Challenge
by Diglossia
Summary: Feeling sorry for yourself never lasts very long when Witch is your friend.


Karla turned, looking over her shoulder at the full length mirror. It was a vanity but her role in life had always required her to dress to the nines, even when the occasion didn't necessarily call for it. She had to look the part she played or be subject to scrutiny she had no desire to be under. There had never been a time when Karla had wanted to be _under_ anything- or anyone.

The mirror reflected a young woman dressed in a well-tailored pant suit the color of a Summer Sky jewel. The color highlighted Karla's glacier blue eyes and spiked, first snow white hair. Skin only slightly pinker than the frozen tundra that lay outside her mansion proved that she was indeed alive and not an ice sculpture, though many in her Circles would happily say that she might very well be made from the ice that forever covered the northern reaches of their homeland.

It was fitting that the Queen of Glacia look like the land she ruled. Too recently, more colorful characters, those who wore Jewels the color of piss and cheap wine had proven Glacia needed a ruler whose Jewel matched snow that had been tamped down by many a passersby.

A slight quiver ruined the image, revealing the cane her carefully perfected angle had kept hidden. Karla snarled, looking angrily at her wasted legs. She sighed, closing her eyes as she massaged her temples.

*Truly, they don't detract from your physical image,* Witch said from behind her, watching her from eyes Karla knew were sapphire without looking.

Karla, even after so long, shivered at the silken touch of that midnight voice. The one time of year the former Queen of Ebon Askavi came to visit her in her winter palace and she had to ruin the visit while caught at her vanity. There were better times to be weak.

"It's not my _physical_ image I'm worried about," Karla said, the edge of pain and ever present humiliation breaking through her control. "I trusted that bitch gave her more than she was worth, and this is how she repays me? Mother Night, Jaenelle-"

*I am not Jaenelle,* Witch reminded her.

"Sorry," Karla said. The words, callous-sounding from another, were heartfelt. "I failed. As a Healer, as a Black Widow. I swallowed the most deadly poison there is without questioning it, without thinking _to_ question it. What does that say about me?"

"It says you are a Queen," Witch replied, the midnight voice changing seamlessly into Jaenelle's softer timbre, "who quelled a revolution successfully. That is not something to be forgotten, Karla. You are still alive."

Karla cut her eyes angrily, whirling to face Jaenelle and stopped short, remembering. The witchstorm that had decimated half the inhabitants of Kaeleer, two-thirds of Terreille, and all but a handful of Hell, was not something to be taken lightly. What had been done to her body was nothing compared to Jaenelle's.

Karla fought back the pain in her throat. She was too strong for tears but not too strong to feel pain.

"Did you ever," she stopped, swallowing. "Jaenelle, did you ever think about giving up?"

Blue eyes shifted.

"I am dreams made flesh. I am what is celebrated at Winsol, what is prayed for in times of trouble. Witch is the savior and the protector of the Blood, the kindred, and the landen. Every living creature needs hope. I am that hope. I am what you dreamme to be."

Karla shivered even as her body cried out for Witch's touch. Dreams made flesh. Savior. Protector. Words she had heard all her life. The truth in her dreams standing before her.

"But did I think of giving up," Jaenelle asked. "Every day. I wanted more than anything to be normal. The distance between you and a landen is less than the distance between Gray and Ebony. I did what I was created to do. I rid the Realms of the greatest danger it has ever faced and it damn near destroyed me. But," Jaenelle said, smiling and looking pointedly at Karla's cane. Karla wobbled, leaning hard on it, suddenly weak at the knees. That weakness had nothing to do with her mangled limbs and all to do with Jaenelle's voice. "I will tell you this: now that it is done, no one will ever doubt you again. In surviving you have proven your worth. Now your life is your own to live as you wish. Will you rise to meet the challenge?"

Karla did not hesitate, bowing deeply before offering her wrists to Jaenelle. Witch placed her hands atop, long nails gently brushing Karla's skin, reminding her as ever of the danger they could pose.

"Yes, my Queen," she answered. "I will."


End file.
